Grissom's Realizations
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: Decisions. What if Grissom wants Sara, but Sara has given up on him? Can he change HER mind?Starts during season five and goes through season seven.
1. Chapter 1

OF COURSE I DON"T OWN THEM. I have my own characters to keep me busy. THIS Is just for fun!

Grissom and Sara have been on relationship tilt-a-whirls with each other since the very beginning. One question—why does she put up with it for so long? Is he really that oblivious? What happens when they each make decisions regarding the other? What if those decisions are polar opposites? What if—she decides to give up on him, just as he figures things out?

Bumpy ride. Grissom's got his work cut out for him now!!!!

After Grissom left, telling her he'd not let Ecklie fire her, Sara gave some honest thought to their convoluted and dysfunctional relationship.

When had she let herself get in this situation? This hopeless feeling of _why bother? _

Her mind replayed that day, that case nearly a year ago. That's when she'd first given up Grissom had tried to distance her so much that week. She hadn't known why then, not until Grissom had spoken.

She'd watched through the glass and felt her heart harden at Grissom's words.

She'd had no idea he felt that way. Why hadn't he said something before? Done something about it? Did he honestly think she'd wait forever for him to figure things out?

Love was something that had to be nurtured—she'd learned that the hard way. So why had she waited so long to make a decision about the entomologist?

Part of her already knew the answer. Fear. She feared that if she got the man she thought she wanted she'd somehow mess it up.

It was time she stopped being afraid. Time she stopped waiting for the unattainable. It wasn't going to happen and she'd wasted enough time.

She didn't need Grissom. It was time she realized that and started acting like the self-sufficient, confident woman she wanted to be. More like Catherine. The single mother seemed capable of anything. Wasn't she Grissom's right hand—and the left?

What right did Grissom have to decide her life for her?

Only that which she gave him. It was time to start taking control of things again.

But how?

First, she was going to stop mooning over the man whenever he got near. Enough was enough—she had her pride. It was time she developed some dignity as well. Stop trying to get him to notice her. After all—he saw her every day

Second, she was going to start getting out more. No more staying at home reading and researching just to have interesting things to talk to the man about. Enough bugs for her. And enough entomologists.

Third, quit spending all her time at work. Was it worth it really? Letting it consume her, flirting with alcoholism, developing an ulcer? It was just a job, nothing more. Not worth killing herself slowly over.

Fourth, stop beating herself up about things she couldn't change, about what she didn't like about herself. If she'd learned one thing on this job it was that everyone was imperfect—even her.

Last, get out of her small cramped apartment. Find one that's more like the home she always wanted. Had she even finished unpacking all the boxes from the move here? That had been four years ago at least.

The rest of her life started today. _She was still here, _everyone else in her life might be either dead or superficial—but she wasn't.

Per Grissom's orders she was officially on suspension for her actions with Ecklie. Three weeks. She was going to put them to good use.

It took two days to find the place she wanted. Another three to finish the paperwork. By the time her three week's enforced vacation was up she had hired a moving company and everything was in her new place—a three bedroom condo in a relatively nice neighborhood. It was near a small park. She walked there before her shift started, sitting down to think. To reaffirm what she'd already decided.

Gilbert Grissom was a part of her past and she was determined to keep him there. They were colleagues—no more. It was time to stop. This was more than just a rationalization, this was cold hard fact. She dealt in facts, it was time to follow the evidence.

She and only she was responsible for her own happiness. She was not making herself happy.

She began her metamorphosis at work.

She'd been paged early and met Grissom in the lobby where he quickly filled her in on the specifics of the case. He had one hand wrapped around her upper arm, an unconscious action that she usually didn't mind.

This time she squared her shoulders and pulled away, ignoring his strangely hurt and perplexed expression. No more letting him casually touch her then back away.

She kept her distance while they processed Martha Krell's hotel room, processing one side of the room while he went to work in the bathroom. He seemed to sense something was wrong, spoke to her hesitantly whenever it was necessary to speak.

After taking the evidence they'd managed to collect from the disinfected crime scene—the killer had tried cleaning up after himself—back to the lab she hurriedly split away from him and Greg.

She'd made a resolution but that didn't make it any easier to be near him. She spent the next few hours running trace samples on the evidence. She was about to take a break when her pager went off, flashing the message _Busy. Go see Ecklie about case. GG._

Dammit. Ecklie was her least favorite man in the whole building. She stopped short—who better than? If she was truly taking control of her life and being a responsible adult, able to control her emotions, who better to practice on than Ecklie?

She paused just in side the lay out room, seeing the assistant director spreading evidence photos out on the table. How to begin. He was her boss and after her words to him a few weeks ago and Grissom's refusal to fire her, things were naturally tense. Maybe she could rectify that?

"Ecklie? What's up?"

He looked at her suspiciously, and she almost laughed. Surely he wasn't expecting her head to explode? Fangs to suddenly protrude?

"I paged Grissom," Was all he said.

"And he paged me. How can I help you?"

He went into detail and she had to admit she was intrigued. Sue Stein's scene was eerily like Martha Krell's. He made a comment about the fingerprint not being able to be processed. Sara knew that technology had come pretty far in the last five years. "That was then. This is now."

As she left she wondered if her words could mean something else.


	2. Chapter 2

Grissom stared straight ahead as he walked beside the janitor. He wanted this case wrapped up, was worried for his colleague's mindset. Sara had started the shift in her typical eager manner but something had changed.

He'd noticed in the Denali that she was quiet and had called her on it. She'd said very little and he let it pass. After all, everyone was entitled to an 'off' night, even Sara.

The hospital's smell nearly turned his stomach; he didn't know if it was the mix of antiseptic and prescriptions or from the intangible but nonetheless unmistakable aura of madness that surrounded the brick building.

The hours had dragged by as he and Sara painstakingly perused every squared inch of the victim's room, the hall surrounding him, the video tapes of him being constrained—all of it.

He just wanted to wrap it up and see that the victim got what little justice could be derived from pinpointing a madman as the killer.

The janitor's shocked exclamation and the sound of fumbling keys jerked Grissom from his reverie. He peered through the shatterproof glass separating him from Sara. Sara and the madman holding a pottery shard to her neck.

Open the door—he told the janitor softly, barely aware of saying the words.

Sara looked at him through the glass, eyes wide with a panic he'd remember in his thoughts always. Her lips formed his name, a silent entreaty and a condemnation.

_Why had he left her alone? _He'd known this building housed mentally ill sexual deviants. He hadn't thought, he just hadn't thought. Now Sara was paying the price.

His Sara. She who was so like him in so many ways. At the mercy of a madman and he couldn't get to her. Was forced to watch.

The blood sprayed on her clothing and he wanted to puke. He often saw her with blood on her, it came with the job. But having someone threaten her life and then slit their throat that close to her was more than Grissom thought he'd ever have to handle.

After it was over all he wanted to do was hold her, but he didn't dare. Not here, not while they were on the clock. She must blame him for leaving her alone, putting her in that position.

_I'll never let her out of my sight on a scene like this again, _Grissom vowed to himself. He'd not lose her like they'd lost Holly Griggs. That was horrible but to lose Sara would be so much worse. It would be like losing a part of himself; the very best part, the part that kept him alive. Without Sara, he was all bugs. He knew that, had always known. It was one reason he spent so much time at work, knowing that she always arrived early and stayed late. He had to be there, make sure she took care of herself.

He'd brought her to Vegas—she was his responsibility. He'd always felt that way and had never questioned it. It just was.

He knew he'd done a horrible job with that responsibility lately. He asked himself for the ten thousandth time why the girl stayed. Why did Sara stay in Vegas? Was it because of her career? With her skills she could work anywhere and he was thankful to have her; her dedication and zeal for the job mirrored his own and he respected that. But she certainly didn't have any other ties to the area.

He remembered that phone call he'd made years ago, asking her to come help him with an investigation. Holly Griggs's murder. She'd done such a good job on it, he'd prayed she'd accept his offer of a job. And she had.

Then he'd had to watch her flirt with Nicky. It had frightened him, frozen his gut, thinking of Nick and Sara together, as a couple. Nick touching her, holding her. Thankfully, they'd become the best of friends. Now Grissom loved watching her tease and torment the affable Texan.

He knew Sara had trouble relating to people and he was glad she'd bonded with Nick. And though he'd worried about her relationship with Cath and Warrick, they'd settled into a comfortable rhythm that made for a great work environment.

The only spoke in the wheel was him. He knew it, knew Sara felt more for him than simple friendship. He felt the same about her. She was _his Sara. _His light. The way she smiled at him over some scientific discovery tightened his gut and narrowed his world to only her.

Now he only wished he had let her see that years ago. Maybe then Hank the jerk wouldn't have entered the picture, maybe she wouldn't have stopped making those little gestures that said _he, Grissom, _was someone special. He missed those gestures. One of his favorite memories involved sitting up outside the lab one night with a dead pig checking the decomposition rate. She'd brought him a blanket, settled it around his shoulders, and given him a thermos of coffee. She'd stayed with him all night.

He'd wanted to wrap her up in that blanket with him. The intensity of that want scared everything that was holy out of him. He'd never felt that intensity for anyone. Only Sara. And tonight he'd wanted to throw himself through that glass window to get to her. To rip her away from that bastard and hold her as close as he could. If he could break the glass, he'd do it barehanded to get to her. But he knew the glass was designed to resist that very thing. Designed to separate the dangerous from the rest of the world. And now Sara was on the wrong side of that glass—and he could do nothing but watch, but wait.

Five years between that night and tonight. Five years he'd thought about and wanted to hold her.

_This wasn't something that was ever going to go away, _Grissom realized for the first time. A part of him had somehow simplified his feelings for the woman as being lust, infatuation even. He knew better now.

Having reached his final—if delayed—conclusion, he had no clue how to proceed. Sara hadn't made any overt moves in his direction in nearly two years. Since before Hank the EMT even. _Had her feelings changed? What were her feelings exactly? _

Grissom was ashamed to admit it, but those of feminine gender had always baffled him, Sara more so than most. He'd been her teacher and had been thrilled to find someone so consumed with the same passions he possessed. He'd initially mistaken her advances for enthusiasm.

After she'd come to Las Vegas he'd chalked her hints down to boredom, proximity even. What were her options, really? The way the woman worked herself to the near breaking point proved she had little time to meet young, single men. Warrick, Nick, Greg, Hodges and David were it and they were all obviously ill suited for his Sara. Leaving only him able to handle her vast intelligence, that spirit that fired her.

That was something else that bothered him. She ignited, sparked, lit up all around her. And he was the calming presence, the one who stifled everyone else. Didn't Sara deserve better? Better than some old guy like him, dampening everything about her?

But this wasn't something that was going to go away, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to. When he thought of his life before Sara entered the picture it was so dark and bleak he knew he didn't want to sink back into that.

But what kept her in Vegas? What if by some chance she decided to leave? What right did he have to stop her?

He had no holds on her, no ties to keep her close. Just a mentor/protégé relationship. But those relationships were easily broken and Grissom was startled to realize he wanted something more than that. He wanted to walk down the halls holding her hand, not walking eighteen inches away from her as befitting a colleague. He wanted to take her to the Sheriff's fundraisers, parties he'd always eschewed for a lack of a date. And if he were honest—lack of desire to see Sara with a date.

Five years. He'd wasted five years, so consumed with his specimens, his work that he'd not noticed his life silently idling by. All the time she'd been right there. What was it she'd said during a case once? He'd asked her if he'd seen her lately and she'd said, what?

_Oh yes, she'd said, _"You see me every day."

Did he really? Some how, now he didn't think he did.

But what next? What step did he take now?

He didn't want to frighten her off.

Sara didn't do well with change—in that, she was much like him. _Baby steps, _he told himself. Moving slowly along the right path until Sara realized he wasn't a clueless ass anymore.

As he watched her walk way, headed to speak with Greg, he thought a moment, ignoring Cath and Warrick as they walked by.

Turning into his office he strode with a strong purpose to the desk, for once ignoring the skittering of his specimens as he'd turned on the light. Settling uncharacteristically on the edge of his desk he grabbed a yellow legal pad and began listing the steps he'd take devising the most important experiment of his life.


End file.
